


Baby

by xRabbitx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Smut, Some Humor, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRabbitx/pseuds/xRabbitx
Summary: **HIATUS**
  
Junkrat and Roadhogs are idiots. Idiots who decide to pull off a heist on Reinhardt's turf.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm apparently a masochist, because I'm trying to pull off two multi-chapter fics at the same time. But whatever. Live hard, die young, right?
> 
> Anyway, these boys are obviously not mine, and I should very much like not to be sued :')

*

 

            "Seriously, Klaus, go away. I already told you, I'm not interested."

            "Aw, come on, Anna. I've got tickets to see Coldplay tonight," Klaus says with what he probably thinks is an alluring smile as he dangles the two tickets in front of her face. She finally turns her head and looks up at him with a deadpan stare.

            "What? I thought you liked Coldplay," he says, his uncertainty breaking through the smooth surface.

            "Sure, when I was 15," Anna drones, then turns back to her computer. It's not true; she still likes Coldplay. "Now go away. Do you really want Herr Weber to see you slacking off _and_ harassing female employees?"

            Klaus turns a little white. "I didn't mean to harass you!" he complains, pocketing the tickets. "I was just asking you out."

            "And I was just rejecting you. For the fifth time in two weeks, too, Klaus," Anna says without taking her eyes off the numbers on her screen. "When a male employee insists on constantly asking a female employee out despite getting rejected, it's considered harassment. Besides, this bank really doesn't condone employees dating each other. Not that I would ever date you in any scenario whatsoever, mind you."

            Klaus is silent for a moment. Then he pushes away from her cubicle wall with a muttered, "bitch," before finally, _finally_ , leaving her alone. Anna just knows that he's off to the watercooler to tell every other man who'll listen about what an ice cold, frigid cunt she is. Thankfully, most of the people working here are decent people, and they all know that Klaus is a Grade A fuckboy and slimeball. He's only been here for two months, and Anna suspects that it will be even less before he's fired or relocated.  She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair as she looks up and watches the large foyer and the lines in front of the tellers. She had never meant to end up in Stuttgart and especially not as a bank employee. She had always wanted to go to Berlin and be an artist or something like that. The banking training was supposed to just be something she could fall back on if everything else failed. Everything hadn't failed, because she had never tried. One temp job had just taken the other, and now she was here, walking down a career path she had never wanted to be on in the first place. She kept telling herself that she was still young and could still give it a shot—next summer, next winter, next year. She sighs again, feeling pretty depressed about the whole thing, as she gets up and walk through the landscape of cubicles to get to the small kitchen at the back. The coffee is old, but she pours a plastic cup of it anyway. It tastes cold and bitter when she sips it, and she promises herself that she'll quit her job tomorrow and go to Berlin. She has some friends there, all living the bohemian life, and she could probably crash at their place until she finds out what to do with herself. Maybe she could find a cleaning gig at a gallery, and then slowly work her way up from there. Maybe in a couple of years she could open her own gallery and exhibit her own and her friends' pictures. It could one of those trendy places that turn into a jazzy nightclub after hours where all the up and coming artists of Berlin would go on Wednesday nights. She stares into the plastic cup and smiles. Yeah, she's going to do, and she isn't even going to wait until tomorrow. She's going to march into Herr Weber's office right now and just quit.

            Anna is so lost in her little daydream that it doesn't immediately notice the noise outside the bank. It's an engine, and it's extremely loud. Rumbling and growling like some giant monster, and she only just have time to look up towards the entrance to the building before the explosion and the following blast wave knock her off her feet. She's forced back and the back of her head slams against a cupboard, and she loses consciousness for a few seconds. When she comes to, the air is full of panicked screams and the sound of the bank's alarms going off. Her arms are shaking, her limbs are shaking, in fact, her entire body is shaking, and she can feel something warm trickle down the back of her neck, but despite all this, she manages to drag herself up to stand. One look into the main room reveals that something terrible has happened; there's dust and smoke everywhere. Most of the cubicles have been knocked over, and people are crawling out from under them. The giant glass doors at the entrance, as well as some of the brick wall itself, have been shattered into a million pieces, and Anna can see dark figures sprawled on the marble floor. They're not moving, and she has to swallow down a wave of nausea.

            "Anna!"

            Anna turns her head with a pained groan as sees her colleague, Lilian, staggering towards her, bleeding from a cut on her forehead. "W-what's going on?"

            "I don't know," Anna breathes, reaching out to steady Lilian. "Maybe it's terrori—" She never gets to finish her sentence, because she's interrupted by a loud, maniacal laughter coming from the giant hole in the wall at the entrance. A second later, two silhouettes appear in the dust cloud, jumping up on the pile of rubble. One of them looks like a man, the other—Anna guess it's a man, too, but he is gigantic both in height and width. It looks like it's the smaller of them who's laughing, because he's jumping up and down in what looks like excitement.

            "Alright, folks, my name is Junkrat!" he shouts and steps out from the dust. "This right here is a heist, so if ya got anythin' left to stick up, stick 'em up!" He happily brandishes a massive gun in the general direction of the teller stations. Anna, along with the rest of her colleagues, holds up her hands.

            "Very nice work," Junkrat says with a wide grin. "Now just keep 'em up, or I might have to make another little boom." He steps off the rubble pile, and it's only now that Anna notices that one of his legs is missing. In its place, there's a metal peg that clanks against the marble as he stalks across it to grab the first still-living person he can find. It happens to be Klaus, and Junkrat grabs Klaus by his tie and lifts him off the floor.

            "Okay, Mister Suit man," he hisses, leaning in close. "Yer gonna tell me who's got access to the vault, and I might let ya live."

            Klaus just stares up at Junkrat with wide, terrified eyes, and Anna actually feels sorry for him. Junkrat doesn't seem to be impressed, because he spits, then turns his head.

            "Hey, babe!" he calls over his shoulder. "We've got someone here who won't squeal."

            Anna had almost forgotten about the other figure in the dust, but she's violently reminded when said figure moves. With footsteps so heavy they sound more like a T-rex, the man steps out of the cloud, and everyone in the room visible cowers. He's at least 7 feet tall, almost naked except for a pair of dirty and torn camouflage pants, spiked leather boots, and what looks like a giant tattoo that stretches over his massive belly. It's covered in dust, though, so Anna can't see what it's supposed to be. The scariest thing about him, though, is his face—or rather, the fact that he hides his face behind a black gasmask shaped like a pig's snout. He turns to look down at Klaus with a low growl that sounds more annoyed than anything else. The mere presence of the man seems to be enough to persuade Klaus, though, because he whimpers and points a weak finger in the direction of Herr Weber who's crouching next to a desk.

            "Cheers, mate!" Junkrat grins and drops Klaus who immediately curls up on the floor. Junkrat half-jumps, half-dances over to Herr Weber, and does a little pirouette on his peg.

            "So, yer the boss, eh?" he asks with glee. "It's real simple, this. Open the vault. Now, or my partner here" (he jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the giant man behind him) "is goin' to have to persuade you." The man behind Junkrat just stands here, not moving or speaking, but again, it apparently does the trick, because Herr Weber splutters, "I-it's a voice a-activation system, and it sh-shuts down when under—when under attack."

            Junkrat groans and rolls his eyes. "Then turn it back on, ya stupid geezer! We ain't got all day."

            "I-I can't!" Herr Weber whimpers. "H-has to come from the main s-security central!"

            "Fuckin' modern shit," Junkrat spits, and in his frustration he sends Herr Weber tumbling unconsciously to the floor with a fist to his face. 

            "Shouldn't have done that," the mountain of a man behind Junkrat says. His voice is deep and rumbling, making all the small hairs on Anna's body rise. "If he lied, we could have used his voice to open the locks."

            "Fuck it," Junkrat hisses and glances at the large vault door, then stalks over to it to inspect it closer. The two men seem to be distracted, so Anna gestures to Lilian that she should be quiet, then carefully sneaks along the wall. If she can just find some place where they can escape, maybe…

            Another large boom, although not as loud as the first one, blasts through the room, making everyone, including Anna, duck and cover. When she looks up, the vault door is still in place, but almost all of the hinges have been shattered. Still, it would take at least ten men to lift the massive steel door off its frame. Only, Anna realizes, the mountain of a man probably does have the strength of ten men, and sure enough, the man steps over to the door and grabs. He grunts and groans, pulling at it until his ringed knuckles turn white. Behind him, Junkrat is jumping up and down, chanting, "C'mon, Hoggy! Yer doin' it, babe! Use those big, sexy muscles!" The mountain's groaning becomes louder until he, with a booming roar, tears the vault door off its frame and throws in on the marble floor with a deafening crash. It shouldn't be humanly possible to do something like this, and yet, the man doesn't even seem to have broken much a sweat. Junkrat cackles gleefully and zooms past the mountain man and into the vault. Anna doesn't actually know what's in the vault (gold bars? Piles of cash? Jewels?), but she doesn't wait around to see. While the two men are busy pillaging the vault, she slips behind a desk and crawls along the floor and towards the windows. Several of them are shattered, and if she can just get over there, maybe she can slip out and help others do the same while the robbers are busy.

            Anna's plans, however, are foiled again, but this time, it's not by Junkrat and his partner. Just before she reaches the broken windows, the sound of heavy footsteps booms through the room. She looks up, but it's not the mountain man. The steps are coming from outside the bank, but they're on their way inside. Junkrat and his partner, who were in the middle of lugging two heavy bags out of the vault, stop and look up.

            "You there! Fiends! Come out with your hands held up, or I shall have to use force!" a loud, male voice rings out, and another gigantic figure, even taller than the gasmasked mountain, steps through the dust clouds and into the foyer. He is covered in head to toe in an impressive armor, and he's carrying a massive hammer over his shoulder. The entire room, save the two criminals, breathes a collective sigh of relief; it's Reinhardt. Anna doesn't know much about him other than he's an ex-military man who refused to retire and who is now spending his time battling crime and injustice. Reinhardt lifts the hammer off his shoulder and points it straight at Junkrat and his accomplice. "Surrender yourselves instantly!"

            Junkrat and his mountain exchange glances, and then, before anyone can do anything, Junkrat has dropped his bag and jumped into the air, tossing what looks like a grenade at Reinhardt. It explodes on impact, and it should have blown a lesser man to smithereens. Reinhardt merely takes a couple of steps back, though, apparently unharmed by the explosion. That wasn't the purpose of the attack either, it looks like; it was merely a distraction, because before Reinhardt and regain his balance, the masked mountain literally hooks him with a brutal-looking metal hook that's big enough to wrap around Reinhardt's middle. With a powerful yank in the chain connected to the hook, the mountain tugs Reinhardt closer and then blasts him at pointblank range in the chest with an equally brutal-looking gun. Everything moves really fast after that. Reinhardt, still mostly unharmed, slams his hammer into the mountain's side, making him stumble sideways with a loud grunt.

            "Get yer paws off my Hog!" Junkrat bellows and charges at Reinhardt, another grenade ready in his hand, and Anna realizes that it's mechanical just like his leg.

            The three men battles back and forth in the foyer while everyone else is ducking for cover. Reinhardt seems to be doing fine against the two assailants, but even though he's known for his mighty force and excellent combat skills, taking on two extremely skilled attackers at once eventually looks like it's threatening to overwhelm him. Junkrat and his partner fight dirty too, coming at him from every side, every angle, and using every dirty trick they can think of. At one point, Junkrat manages to hit Reinhardt squarely in the chest with three grenades at once, causing him to get knocked back hard against a wall. Almost at the same time, the masked mountain tosses his hook up into the ceiling right above Reinhardt. It cuts deep into the bricks, and when the gasmasked man yanks the chain, a large portion of the ceiling comes tumbling down onto of Reinhardt, burying him on debris and twisted metal.

            "Here we go!" Junkrat yells out, and he zooms over to their abandoned bags, swinging one of them over his shoulder. His partner grabs the other one, and Junkrat jumps onto the man's shoulders, riding him and laughing loudly as they disappear out of the building. A second later, there's a loud roar of an engine, which then disappears in the distance. For a moment, the building is completely silent except the wailing alarms. Then the pile of rubble begins to move, and Reinhardt emerges with an angry grunt. " _Verdammte Jugend!_ "

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

*

           

            "I _knew_ it! Shouldn't have gone to fuckin' Stuttgart!" Junkrat rages as they screech around a corner. He ducks his head just in time to avoid the bullet that whistles past his ear. With a hiss and a curse, Junkrat looks over his shoulder; the cops are on their tail, and they're closer than Junkrat really feels comfortable with.

            "Fuckin' Reinhardt cocksucker," he splutters and aims a couple of shots over his back. He doesn't turn to see if he's hit anything.

            "I though Reinhardt was in Spain," Roadhog simply says, his eyes fixed on the road in front of them and the cars coming towards them. Or at least, Junkrat thinks his eyes are on the road. It's hard to tell behind the gasmask.

            "Well, he ain't now, that's for bloody sure," Junkrat grumbles while clinging to the sidecar of the bike. Cars are honking and swerving to avoid them, and if Junkrat didn't already know that Roadhog is an excellent getaway driver, he would have feared for his life.

Roadhog just grunts in response and steps on the accelerator, making the massive bike road as it tears down the street.  They have already set up a hideout, but they can't go there until they have shaken the cops off their tail.

"Sticky sons of whores," Junkrat growls and ducks his head again and narrowly avoids getting his head blown off. He twists around in his seat, takes aim with the homemade grenade launcher, and shoots. He hits one of the cop cars right through the windshield, and the car swerves off the road, crashing into the oncoming traffic as the grenade explodes inside it. The other two cop cars avoid the crash, but they fall behind a bit. Junkrat is over it, though, and he elbows Roadhog and calls, "Hey babe, slow down a bit. I'm gonna send these cunts flying!"

Roadhog slows down as he's told to do, and the gap between them and the police narrows. The cops inside the cars don't look pleased, and one of them leans out the window to fire at them. The shot rings in Junkrat ears, but he's not hit, so he just laughs and shouts, "Missed, fuckhead! Now say bye-bye!" He aims, and just as Roadhog turns a corner, Junkrat fires two grenades at the cars. They land on the street in front of the police cars, and Junkrat just have time to see the relieved expressions of the cops' faces before they drive over the grenades. A massive explosion almost blows Junkrat out of the sidecar; the explosion from the grenades sends one police car flying and crashing into the other. He's pretty sure that everyone inside those cars, and close to them, are dead, but they don't stick around to make sure. They have shaken the cops off, and that's the important part.

"'Nother job well done," Junkrat says to Roadhog, settling back in the sidecar with a please smirk. "Go forth to the ratcave!" Roadhog doesn't say anything.

"Shit, ya made me so hot tearin' that vault door off, Hoggers," Junkrat purrs as they come inside the loading dock on the old factory they're squatting in a while later. He turns in the sidecar to grin at Roadhog, "Ya best believe me when I say I'm gonna rav—Hog? Babe?"

Junkrat's grin fades very fast when he sees Roadhog just sitting there, quiet and clutching his side. There's blood dribbling between his giant fingers, and it looks like it's been doing that for a while.

"I think I'm hit," Roadhog says matter-of-factly as if it wasn't blindingly obvious.

"Shit, shit, shit," Junkrat hisses and immediately jumps out of the sidecar. He runs around the bike to the side Roadhog is clutching. "Lemme see."

Roadhog removes his hand to show Junkrat the wound. It's not big, but it's there, right above his hip, and it's bleeding pretty badly. Junkrat experiences a moment of sheer, unfiltered panic; Roadhog is wounded, Junkrat is not a doctor, and Roadhog is going to bleed out and die, and Junkrat is going to be all alone, and… no. Junkrat heaves a deep breath, then wraps Roadhog's massive arm around his shoulders and drags the giant body up.

"C'mon," he says, refusing to let the panic show in his voice. "Let's get you inside."

Junkrat is by no means a small guy. He's actually pretty tall and strong, but not only is Roadhog taller than him, he's also a lot heavier, and it takes Junkrat quite a while to drag him inside. Roadhog isn't helping much either; he tries to walk, but his strength wanes with every step, which means he's getting heavier with every step. Junkrat groans and pants, but he slowly, very slowly, manages to get Roadhog inside and onto the makeshift bed of old chair cushions they've scavenged from around the factory offices.

"Shit," Junkrat breathes, wiping over his sweaty forehead. He pries Roadhog's fingers away from the wound and takes a close look at it. It doesn't really make any difference, though, because Junkrat knows shit about wounds and how to treat them—especially not when there's still a bullet inside it.

"Damn it, Hoggy, what am I supposed to do here?" Junkrat complains, scratching through his sparse hair and feeling a pang of panic tingle at the bottom of his spine. Blood is still seeping from the wound, soaking through the cushions underneath Roadhog's massive body. Roadhog doesn't reply at first. He just lifts a hand—Junkrat is terrified at how weak that hand looks—and fumbles a bit with the clasps of his gasmask. Junkrat instantly leans in to help him, taking the mask off Roadhog's face and dropping it on the floor. Seeing how pale Roadhog's face is has Junkrat inches away from an outright panic attack.

"Bullet," Roadhog mumbles, closing his eyes with a labored groan. "Get it out."

"What do you mean, get it out?" Junkrat splutters. "I can't just—it's probably lodged between yer ribs or some shit. I can't just dig it out!"

"Get it out," Roadhog grunts as if he hasn't heard Junkrat's complaints at all. "Quit whining and get it out."

"Well, fuck," Junkrat huffs, staring down at the wound. It's not big, but maybe—maybe he could two fingers in there. The thought of literally digging around inside Roadhog for a bullet makes his stomach turn a bit, but there's nothing for it. They're in a foreign city in a foreign country, and there's no way Junkrat is going to find a crooked doctor before Roadhog has bled out and died.

"Fine," Junkrat says, chewing on his bottom lip. "But if you die, I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, you hear me?"

Roadhog just grunts.

Junkrat huffs and gets up to rummage through their stash, hoping to find something that might help him. He returns a few moments later with some old rags and a bottle of alcohol to clean his metal fingers with. It probably wouldn't make much of a difference, but he might as well try and avoid Roadhog getting an infection.

"Okay," he sighs, sitting down by Roadhog's wounded side. "This is probably gonna hurt like a bitch."

Roadhog never complains or screams or anything. When Junkrat first pushes two fingers into the wound, Roadhog lets out a pained grunt, but then he just goes quiet. Junkrat can tell that he's in a massive amount of pain, though, because every single muscle in his giant body is tensed up so hard it trembles. Junkrat can't find anything at first; he digs around, trying to find the bullet, but it just feels like there's just nothing there. The wound is bleeding even more heavily now, and the blood is pooling on the floor, soaking the knees of Junkrat's shorts. It looks gruesome, and Junkrat is just about to give up when he finally feels it. The tip of his metal index finger brushes against something hard. It's deep, so deep that Junkrat almost can't reach it, but by using his free hand to try and squeeze the bullet outwards, he finally gets a hold of it and pulls it out.

"Hah!" he laughs triumphantly and holds up the small, bloody bullet. "I got the fucker! Hogs? Mako?"

Roadhog doesn't move, and the sense of elation instantly drains from Junkrat's body. He's pretty sure he warned Roadhog about dying, but it looks like Roadhog wasn't listening, and with a sense of the world coming down around him, Junkrat leans over Roadhog, smacking his cheek and hissing, "Mako! Hoggy! Stop that shit _right now_."

Roadhog doesn't open his eyes, doesn't say anything, but his chest still moving, even if it's only very slightly.

"I fuckin' warned ya, babe," Junkrat pants, grabbing the rags and roll of duct tape. He presses the rags against the wound and tapes it as tightly against Roadhog's body as he can, then sits back, not sure what to do next.  It's getting dark outside, and Roadhog's chest is still moving, but his muscles are lax, his face blank, and he doesn't react when Junkrat shakes him or slaps him. After a while of staring helplessly at Roadhog's massive form, Junkrat grabs the bottle of alcohol and takes a swig, coughing when the liquid burns on its way down his throat. Then he curls up next to Roadhog, resting his head on Roadhog's shoulder so he can watch his chest rise and fall. Junkrat nods off every now and then, but he keeps waking up with a jerk to check Roadhog's breathing.

 

*


End file.
